


Murder is Ineffable, My Dear Boy

by Ramblesgalore



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Not directly stared the pair are a couple, Other, but implied - Freeform, of a sort that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblesgalore/pseuds/Ramblesgalore
Summary: Crowley was supposed to do some simple temptation work at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, but he runs into an unexpected patient while working as a guard.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

It was meant to be a quick job, Crowley knew this from the beginning. He had to plant the seeds of corruption in the guards and doctors and voila, his quota for Hell was finished for a bit. Although Crowley was not a fan of asylums ever since the things were made. Sure they were called psychiatric hospitals now, but the same stench of sterility and delirious, maddened shouts and screams of patients still hung in the air. Claremont was an easy job, plenty big enough and enough people to corrupt. Donning the role of a guard, he easily slipped into the role of Mr.Crow, a lanky but feisty young guard transferred from Britain.

Crowley had to work his way up to bigger cases, to more doctors and guards. His first couple weeks were spent with lower level patients who never made much fuss, but when they did he was right there to stop it. Crowley smirked when he was promoted and handed his next assignment. It was a serial killer, a big one at that, and Crowley frowned a bit. He was never too keen on serial killers, their senseless violence and lack of remorse sending chills down the fallen angel’s spine. He read the name and handed the file back, not even opening it to see more information. “Doctor Martin Whitly, also known as The Surgeon…” Crowley shook his head as he went to the elevator, punching the button to go see this next assignment of his.

He stepped out and was face to face with the room he needed, surprised at the somewhat homely presence it gave off. Crowley caught the scent of something familiar, something he knew well and he stuck his tongue out to get a better read on the scent. His heart sank and he fumbled for the card he needed to enter, opening the door and his eyes widened when he saw who this doctor fellow was.

It was Aziraphale, hair greyed and darkened, a thick beard on his face and dressed in the hospital’s clothes for patients, but it was _his_ Aziraphale. “A-Azira-Aziraphale?” The angel turned and Crowley felt the air grow cold. This man, who looked just like the sweet angel he met all those centuries ago, looked absolutely psychotic. He smiled darkly up at Crowley and walked a bit closer, Crowley’s back hitting a chair as he sat down by the door. The ring of metal on metal sung in the air as the chain met its limit and Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with annoyance and contempt, even though he could easily break the chain without batting an eye. “You must be my new guard then, Mr.Crow I heard.” Crowley wanted to push the other’s shoulders and scream, shout, swear, curse the damn angel’s name but all he could do was state the obvious. “You killed twenty-three people in the nineties, you’re a convicted serial killer.” 

Aziraphale- no, Crowley thought. This wasn’t his Azira, this was the name he read in the file. Martin smiled again, that sharp and cold grin that made Crowley’s pulse quicken. “Serial killer is such a harsh word, my dear boy. I prefer the other term they use for me, oh what’s the name…” Martin squeezed his eyes shut in thought before snapping his fingers, his eyes bright and wild. “The Surgeon! Yes, now I remember. Sounds much better than-“ Crowley stood up and got closer to Martin, anger burning in his eyes. “What is this about, angel? You killed people you **murdered** them and you’re acting like it’s all a game! You’re an angel, a being of healing and hope and good and you-“ 

“There are other ways to heal a person, Crowley- I mean, Mr.Crow.” Crowley’s head was pounding and his heart was racing, the fear pumping through his veins so unfamiliar and terrifying all at once. His angel, his kind and peaceful angel, was grinning at him like a madman with wild eyes, the textbook case of psychotic. Something had changed in his angel and it scared him, that the most peaceful being he ever knew killed without hesitation. Became one of the very things Crowley loathed. Aziraphale, Martin, whoever this man was, sat down across from Crowley and crossed his legs, waving his fingers to the other as he grinned lazily. “You wouldn’t mind hearing a funny little story, would you..?”


	2. You Said You Liked Stories, Yes..?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley seeks to learn more about Martin, and is offered something he can’t bear to refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know this is such a quick update after the first chapter, but I couldn’t really resist. I do plan to continue to expand on these two and this story, so sit tight. Any questions, comments, suggestions, or anything else in between are greatly appreciated!

“A girl in a box! Can you believe it? He’s so transfixed on the idea I think he’ll drive himself mad.” Martin chuckled again, watching Crowley with curious, dangerous eyes. “And you, Mr.Crow, have managed to stay remarkably silent throughout my entire story. Did something I say frighten you?” Crowley swallowed and adjusted the glasses shielding his eyes, not that he really needed to around the other since he knew the truth. Yet, Crowley hardly recognized the angel anymore, if he could even call him an angel. No angel he had ever known had killed in this high an amount, had fathered a _child_ of their own. “What happened to you..? Why did you do all of this, angel?” Martin clicked his tongue, motioning towards the camera in the cell. “Careful with names, Mr.Crow. Names have power behind them.” Crowley glanced at the camera and scowled, a miracle ready to come out of him before he paused. He couldn’t mess with the cameras, not in a convicted murderer’s cell. Especially a demented and narcassistic murderer. “You still didn’t answer my questions, doctor. Why?”

Martin sighed, slumping in his chair as he rolled his head back. “That’s a popular choice of interrogation, isn’t it. Why commit murder, why make the choice. Why, why why…” Martin suddenly stood up and slammed the chair aside, eyes wild and face morphed into a vicious snarl. “Is the answer I give everyone just not enough?!” Crowley squeezed the arms of his chair, startled by the outburst and seconds away from leaving. Martin sighed and fixed his chair, settling himself back in it. “To give you the answer, Mr.Crow, it’s a simple case of needs. I had, still have, urges that I had to satisfy, to quench.” Martin smiled again as he chuckled, that low and dangerous sound that made the hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stand on end.“We all have to face our urges sooner or later. I just happened to have faced mine sooner than others.”

Crowley swallowed again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyed Martin curiously form behind the shades. “Alright, let me ask a different question. Did you lose your wings over this?” Martin’s amusement dissipated and was replaced by longing, shifting his shoulders slightly as he relaxed. “I didn’t lose anything exactly, just got a bit roughened up and damaged. Nothing is ever really lost, after all. Life included.” Crowley let out a weak little hum, crossing his legs before uncrossing them again. “You mentioned… you mentioned having a son?”

Martin’s mood shifted dramatically again, a pattern that Crowley was starting to grow accustomed to. “Ah, my boy! Yes, Malcolm is my son, only one as a matter of fact. He’s almost the same as me in nearly every way. I have a daughter too, but I don’t know her nearly as well as Malcolm.” Crowley couldn’t help show some of his surprise in front of the doctor. After all angels typically don’t have children, and especially don’t have children with mortals. Crowley glanced up at the clock and sighed, standing up and stretching a bit as he stepped by the door. “It has been just peachy, Dr.Whitly, but I do have other people to watch and other business to-“

“You wouldn’t mind making a habit of these chats, would you? I promise to let you get your own side the next time.”

Next time? Martin was phrasing it as if he already knew Crowley’s response, that he knew just what the guard would tell him before he got out that door. Crowley struggled with himself for a moment, wanting to say no just to spite the man but- also tempted to tell him yes, to learn more about this shift in personality and behavior and what had happened to change his angel so much. He blinked and heard the chain connecting Martin to the wall jingle, Martin grinning hellishly at him. He seemed so much like the other demons and fallen angels now, with that smile. “You know you want to, Mr.Crow. So just make it simple and say **yes**.” Crowley grabbed the door handle and turned it, inhaling deeply as he stepped out.

“It’s a deal, doctor.”


	3. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally asks the doctor questions, but what will Martin have to say about them..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for such a long wait, got wrapped up in other things but it is finally here! I do plan on continuing this and I hope you all enjoy. Again, sorry for the delay!

The door creaked as it opened, and Crowley knew there was little he could do to hide his presence from Martin. The doctor turned to face him and smiled, adjusting the cardigan on his shoulders as best he could. “I can see you’re a man of promise, Mr.Crow.” Crowley waved a hand at him and practically collapsed in a chair by the door. “And you’re a man who likes control.” Martin stared at him briefly before shaking his head, going to his desk and sitting down. “We can’t all be perfect, can we? Now, I believe we came to an agreement on some things?” Crowley nodded and reached for the paper in his pocket, Martin chuckling as he shook his head. “No no, we don’t need to have pre-written questions or answers. It makes it seem too fake, too- theatrical. Even though I am one who loves to indu-“

“When were you moved to this hospital, Dr.Whitly?” Martin stopped his talking and sighed, humming absently as he thought of his answer. “Must have been… two days after my sentencing, which had been about a week and a half after my arrest. My medical exam listed me as… mentally unhinged, as everyone liked to say.” Martin smiled again, lifting up his shackled hands for emphasis before his expression turned listless. “I was broken when I entered here. I had problems that I needed to confront and now- I have.” Crowley hummed, trying to keep from showing too much connection and interest to the other. He had plenty of questions, plenty of answers he wanted to wring from the other’s soul he just had to find out _how_.

Martin smiled and raised his hands up a bit, cocking an eyebrow at the other. “Now it’s my turn for a question. Why become a guard at an American psychiatric hospital? Clearly a guy like you must have had other options instead of coming here.” Crowley hissed gently, an old habit that never really faded away over time, at the question. He had gone off to America before to tend to some temptations, but he stopped when travel became more expensive and tedious. He blinked himself out of his stupor when he finally realized he had been blankly staring for the past six minutes. Martin was grinning over at him, amused at his lack of focus. “Ah, he finally returns. Have a nice little trip down memory lane, dig at some old scabs of yours?” Crowley bit back a hiss and shook his head, scowling a bit now at the other. “Needed a change of scenery, and an easy job to fulfill. This seemed like a good option.”

Martin let out a little gasp of surprise, leaning back and smiling again at Crowley. That smile… Crowley felt on edge just from that alone, like he was some prey trapped in a corner. “And you thought a place like this was good? My my, you must be attracted to danger, to risk, Mr.Crow. Something to keep your blood pumping and adrenal glands active.” Crowley huffed at the other and stood up, no longer wanting to sit and watch the other toy with him. “Go on! Ask another question, I’m on the edge of my seat just thinking about it.” Martin’s excitement felt so false, so maniac and Crowley wanted to just ask his questions and bolt. 

“Why did you kill them, doctor? What possessed you to kill all those people?”

Martin’s mood completely shifted, his excitement and bubbly exterior falling away as he chuckled bitterly. “Yes, the question everyone loves to ask me. Why did you kill them, why did you like inflicting pain, why why why-“ Martin stood up and growled at Crowley, trying to get closer to Crowley but stopped by his restraints. “Is no answer I give good enough?! Do all you bastards want to act like I’m some sort of monster?!” Crowley stepped to the door, eyes wide and blood pumping as he pulled the door open. “We’re done here doctor, goodbye. Don’t expect me to-“

“Oh you’ll come back.” Crowley turned and saw Martin smiling again, going to his desk and leaning. “I can see it, in those eyes of yours, your expression. You still have so many questions you want answered and it will tear you up and ruin you if you don’t get the answers you want. Or, in this case, you _need_.” Crowley stared at the other for another moment before pushing the door open and leaving, knowing if he were to turn back Martin would be smiling and watching him. And maybe, just maybe, if he looked back he would go right back into the cell and do it all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you like to see more? Please leave a comment! Or contact me at @anything-unique-can-be-sexy on Tumblr!


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